The 61st Annual Hunger Games
by saverockandroll
Summary: Years before the third quarter-quell, the Capitol is as powerful as ever. The Games have only just begun. Original characters, multiple POVs.
1. The Tragic Brother

**AEDAN**

Morning has just broken, yet I've been awake for hours, tossing and turning and fighting off my nightmares about the day that has just begun – Reaping day. I lie in the same spot for what feels like forever, but eventually my mind is so alive with terrifying thoughts that I have to get up. As soon as I leave my bedroom I go about my morning routine as usual; I bathe in the small pond outside our house, shadowed by large trees that keep me hidden from people walking by. Then I make a breakfast that consists of porridge and bread for my mother and sister Edie, carefully checking all the bread I use to make sure I give them the freshest parts and leave the staler bits for myself. I do all this in the hopes that when my mother and sister come for breakfast, they'll see my calm exterior and this will, in turn, relax them. I check on Edie and, to my surprise, she's still sleeping. Today will be her second reaping, and I can tell she's just as scared as she was last year; she hasn't had more than four hours sleep tonight and has had several nightmares, which I think will probably become a recurring event until she's old enough to be excluded from the reapings. Edie's name is in the bowl only two times, the absolute minimum for someone aged thirteen, and I'm thankful for that. I would give my right arm before I let Edie sign up for tesserae, meaning that although our family would have more oil and grain for the year, her name would be entered more and more times, making it even more likely for her to be reaped. Instead, I signed up for tesserae when I was thirteen years old, and now, at the age of seventeen, my name will be in the bowl 48 times. I'm not too worried, though. By the time my mother was eighteen her name was in the bowl over sixty times, but she was never reaped, and so I figure that today the odds will be in my favour.  
I slowly exit Edie's room and peer at the clock in the small living area of our house. It's only eleven o'clock, and the reaping doesn't start until two, so I figure I have at least two hours before we have to leave. My mother sits at the dining table with a large bucket of water, carefully hand washing the clothes Edie and I will wear to the reaping. I expect Edie to wake up any moment; to saunter tiredly to the dining table and start eating her porridge, but as the minutes pass not one sound comes from her room. I sit, looking out at District Four through the large window next to me, and watch the waves crashing onto the sand at the beach a few hundred metres away from home. Although my chances of being picked for the Games are more and more every year, I allow myself to relax a little. _A false sense of security, _I think to myself. That's what's happened to me. I've gone five years, each time an extremely eligible candidate for the games, and have been left untouched by the Capitol. I am not safe. I know that I will probably never be safe in the hands of the Capitol, but today most of the worries that cloud my mind are for Edie, not myself. Just as I am about to get lost in my thoughts, a figure emerges in the waves that I have been watching so closely. _No big deal, _I think quickly, dismissing the figure. Some people still work on reaping day, including my own father, so whoever it is is probably out to catch some fish before everyone is summoned to the town square. But a nagging concern still lingers in the back of my mind, and I find myself watching the water more intensely than ever. The figure is still there, but there is no boat to speak of. It suddenly occurs to me that they could be drowning.

I wait a few seconds, and it seems that no one is trying to help them. In a shorter time than it took me to decide to save the swimmer, I am out the door of our house and sprinting barefoot across the white sand. As I near the water, I hear the muffled screams of a person who is swallowing far too much salt water. I remove my thin blue shirt as I run and immediately dive into the shallow water, beginning a short, fast swim to whoever it is that needs my help. I feel her before I can see her, soft hair tangled in my fingers as I reach my hands out before me. I grab her waist, hoisting her up above the water, and hear her coughing and spluttering and taking in lots of deep breaths.  
"Keep your head above water!" I shout quickly, and try to keep the girl as far above the surface as I possibly can whilst she mumbles some form of assent. I use my one free arm to direct us both back to the sand, and although the rescue has taken all my energy, the rush of adrenaline that replaces it allows me to carry her well past the shoreline. I finally collapse onto my knees, lowering the girl gently on the sand, when she turns her head away from me and her breakfast makes an unwelcome reappearance. A small crowd has gathered a few feet away from us, and a man quickly hands me a bottle of water for the girl. I see my mother standing tentatively on our porch, wet clothes still hanging from her clenched fists. I doubt she would be angry with me for leaving so suddenly without an explanation, especially because my stopping to say anything to her might have meant the difference between this girl's life and death.

"What's your name?" I ask her as I feed her sips of the water. She swallows thirstily for at least a minute before answering me.

"Adara… Lucett." She says hoarsely, coughing a little more. We sit for a few minutes, her propped up on her elbows and me feeding her water, until she finally feels able to sit up. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I reply gently. "Were you caught in a rip?" This is the only explanation I can think of, seeing as District Four's industry is fishing, and there's not a single person I know who can't swim properly. A rip tide is dangerous to even the best swimmers; one minute you've got your feet on the ocean floor and you think you can handle the current, the next you're well out of your depths and each useless attempt to get back to shore only makes you more exhausted. I remember the very first time I got caught in a rip. I was only seven but already an advanced swimmer for my age, and my father took me out fishing in shallow water. We had only small nets and spears to aid us, but being from Four, it's all we needed. I saw what I thought was an abnormally large cod a few feet away from me, and even though I knew that I'd probably never be able to catch it, I had to at least try. I dived into the water, causing a pretty big splash, and swam to keep up with the fleeing cod. It was huge as I'd anticipated, but after several attempts to pin it with my spear I realised it was a futile attempt. I surfaced, looking around for my father, but he was much further away than I'd thought. I tried for a few moments to get back to him, but every time I looked up I realised that I was not getting any closer, in fact I was being pulled further out to sea by the current. I tired out quickly, and before long the only thing I found myself able to do was scream. My father was there, though, as fast as lightning, his hands clasped around my wrists, helping me back to shore. I'd swallowed a very small amount of salt water, so except for my being a little shaken there wasn't really any damage done. Actually, 'a little shaken' is a bit of an understatement. I found myself having nightmares nearly every night, reliving the incident in my head, sometimes with twisted variations. One night I'd be running through a tunnel, a pack of wild dogs snapping at my heels, the end of the tunnel moving no closer as I'd sprint toward it. The next night I'd be back in the sea, only this time it would be thousands of jellyfish threatening to sting me to death. Let's just say I didn't get much sleep for a while after that.

"I think so. What's your name?" Adara's curious voice forces me back into reality.

"Aedan Sparks." I tell her.

"Thank you for saving my life, Aedan Sparks." At that moment, a man I can only assume to be Adara's father breaks through the ever growing crowd.

"Adara!" He runs towards us, dropping to his knees opposite me and wrapping his arms around his daughter. "Thank you, boy." He says, directing his attention to me.

"You're welcome," I say to them both. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mother standing in the exact same spot she was earlier, and realise that I should probably be getting back to her.

"I'm sorry Adara, Mr. Lucett, I have to be getting home," I stand, handing Adara the depleted water bottle. "Good luck for later." I grab my shirt from the sand and begin to make my way back home, smiling courteously as the Lucetts continue to thank me long after I've left the beach and walked back onto the porch of my house. My mother drops our clothes onto the small bench that leans against the wall and embraces me immediately.

"Well done Aedan, well done." She says. I let her hug me a few moments longer before walking back inside my house. I catch sight of myself in the mirror and immediately know that my mother would want me to bathe again, so I go out and wash myself in the pond for the second time today. By the time I come back inside it's getting on for half twelve and to my surprise my sister is still not awake. I put on the pale green shirt and light trousers that my mother washed for me and slowly make my way to Edie's room. My mother is already there. We stand over Edie for a moment, not wanting to ruin her peaceful sleep, but the reaping is imminent, and lateness isn't something that the Capitol will tolerate. In the end it's me who wakes her, while my mother goes to trade some grain for fresh fish that we'll enjoy tonight after the reaping.

"Is it time to go?" Edie asks me, her voice almost a whisper, as she rubs her eyes and sits up in her bed.

"Not yet. Here, eat your porridge." I prop Edie's pillows up behind her and place the bowl of porridge on her lap. Her face lights up as I pass her the fresh bread, and she eats it in seconds without taking a break between bites. I can't help but laugh as I watch her; anyone would think that she's never seen a scrap of food in her life, when really she probably eats more than me and my mother put together. "Slow down! You'll make yourself sick." I tell her, not wanting a repeat of last time, when both Edie and my mother were ill and I spent a whole day out in the pond trying to get the smell of vomit off Edie's bed sheets. "Eat up and then get dressed – there's some clothes out for you."

"Can I go for a swim before we leave?" I can't help but laugh, but then I quickly remember that Edie has no idea about my ordeal with Adara Lucett this morning, and I decide it's best not to worry her with the details. In the end I simply shake my head.

"Sorry." I say. "We have to get ready, then go to the town square and sign in." I see the disappointment in her face and decide to try and compensate. "We'll go swimming tomorrow – I'll get some bread and fish and we can make a whole day of it. Maybe dad can even take an hour or two off work and join us." Edie grins up at me and nods, and I feel relieved that now she has something to look forward to, which will hopefully take her mind off the reaping, even if for just a little bit. "Eat up." I say as I leave her room.

My mother returns from the market just as Edie creeps out of her room, holding an empty bowl at her side. We embrace, just as we have for the last five years before the reaping and she tells us how everything will be all right. I move before they do, not wanting them to get too emotional because then we'd all probably end up crying. I gut the fish she's brought back for us and prepare it for the evening's meal while she makes sure that Edie is ready to leave, and before I know it my friend Cai is knocking at our door, ready to set off for the town square. Cai is short and stocky – some people mistake his large figure for fat instead of muscle, but in reality he's one of the strongest men in Four, even at only seventeen. Everyone thinks he'd make a good career. He doesn't argue.

Cai looks around all the other kids making their way to the reaping as we walk, my mother and Edie trailing hand-in-hand a few hundred feet behind us. He flips a small coin out his pocket and thrusts it in my hand.

"I bet you that it'll be Lena Thorne this year." He smirks and nods toward Lena, a small fifteen year old girl who's struggling to carry her baby sister Drea as she walks. Cai has been my friend for years, but even now something about him suggests that he might not be all there mentally. Maybe it's his willingness to bet on which of our District's children will be slated for the Games when he, being only seventeen years old, is still not safe from the reapings. Or perhaps it's the unnerving fact that last year, when he told me that fourteen-year-old Tiff Bloom would be going into the arena, he was right.

"You know we're too young to bet, Cai." I look at him disapprovingly, though I quickly slip the coin into my pocket. Not because I'm taking up his bet, but because Cai is one of the wealthier people in District Four and I'm sure he won't miss it. "And even if we were old enough, I still wouldn't bet on anyone."

"Don't be such a wuss, Aedan!" Cai calls after me as I run ahead to greet Lena, and carefully offer to take Drea from her, as it's clear she can't carry the fussy two year old by herself. I continue to walk with Lena, leaving Cai to walk by himself for a while, and eventually Edie catches up to us and we talk about fishing, my rescuing Adara Lucett this morning (apparently word of the ordeal has spread through the whole district), and whatever other topics we can occupy ourselves with without bringing up the reaping. But the walk can only last so long, and before we know it we're in the town square, holding our arms out while the workers from the Capitol take our blood to make sure that everyone's present. I hug my mother and Edie for what feels like a lifetime, quickly embrace my father who has come straight from work, and after saying goodbye to Lena I join the other seventeen year old boys, who are all looking fairly calm – though I figure it's just so they don't seem weak if they get chosen – and concentrate on making sure my own cool exterior never falters. When everyone seems to have arrived, the guests, including Mayor Ash, file silently on to the stage behind our extravagant escort Peach Windson. Her face looks sour and bored as ever, and I wonder how she has the audacity to look _bored _when she's about to tell two children that they have to leave their families and friends and compete in the Hunger Games.  
Peach is the type of woman that could intimidate you with a simple look. Although she's probably in her mid-twenties, her skin is a sickly blue and you can tell that it has been greatly, albeit unnecessarily, enhanced. I expect she would be pretty attractive if not for her Capitol makeover. She wears a knee-length green dress with a shiny gold pattern inlaid into the fabric along with some unusual gold accessory in her flowing white hair. The dress could actually be deemed acceptable, if not extravagant, formalwear here in District Four, however her blue skin, white hair and surgically altered features make her an unmistakable, therefore extremely hateable, product of the Capitol.

"Welcome!" She trills, feigning excitement. "How lovely to be back in District Four… again." She says in a tone that lets us all know it is clearly _not _lovely to be back in District Four, again. "It's time to select this year's tributes! But before we do, here's a short film brought to you by the Capitol!"

We stand and watch the same short film that most of us have seen too many times, reminding us of how The Hunger Games are a punishment for the people's rebellion in the Dark Days, and how being chosen as tribute is an honour, and the victor will be bathed in riches for the remainder of his, or her, lifetime.

"Wonderful!" Peach says as the film draws to a close. "Now, it's time to choose your male tribute!" She makes her way over to the left side of the stage, walking twice as slowly as she did before as to not trip up again.

"May the odds be ever in your favour." She purrs at no-one in particular. She reaches her hand in the bowl slowly, I'm guessing to create tension, and plucks a white, sealed slip of paper from the many that surround it. She makes her way back to the microphone, slow as ever, and pulls the black seal from the paper. We give her an antagonising second to smooth the paper out and take in the name that sits in black and white before her. She takes the suspense angle way too far – just as I start to think she may never read out the name, two small words escape her lips.

"Aedan Sparks."

The whole District takes a breath; partly from relief, partly from sorrow. I simply stand, unmoving as the whole square turns to look at me. Perhaps there's more than one Aedan Sparks living in Four? _Of course not. _Perhaps Peach read the name wrong? _Don't be stupid. _Only the peacekeepers, ushering me up to the stage, snap me back to reality, and I feel a single tear rolling down my cheek. I force myself to hide my emotion, knowing that at this point there's no going back, and crying will only make me an easy target. I know that the reapings will be televised later on, and it angers me to know that even though I saved a girl's life this morning, no-one outside the District will know. Surely if word spread to the Capitol that I saved Adara Lucett from drowning the same day of my reaping, it would get me more sponsors? Perhaps I'll tell them myself.

Thousands of thoughts race through my mind; _who will I face in the arena? What kinds of tricks will the Capitol play on us? Who will be coming with me? _and before I know it I'm on the stage, thousands of people looking up at me, as Peach fishes another small slip of paper from the girls' bowl. I take one last look at the girls, wondering which one of them it could possibly be. I catch sight of Lena, teary eyes meeting my gaze, and hope that Cai will not be right two years in a row. Several other names find their way into my mind, but as Peach breaks the seal on the paper, I find myself hoping for a stranger. A girl so distanced from me that I'll find myself struggling to empathize for her. Peach reads the name, and for the first time I see a genuine emotion on her face: confusion. She ushers forward Mayor Ash and the two exchange confused words before Peach returns to the microphone. And, the girl, of course I know her. It's the closest I could possibly get.

"Edie Sparks!"

It's my own little sister.


	2. With Open Arms

Anger.

The overwhelming fear that had been building up inside me is replaced by pure, unforgiving anger. I have spent most of my life preparing myself for the possibility that I might be reaped, that I might have to leave to compete in the Hunger Games and never come home, but that simply wasn't enough. Now my little sister, young, innocent Edie, will be coming with me. It was unlikely that I'd be chosen, but no way near impossible. But for a brother and sister to be reaped together in the same year? Even after sixty Games, the odds were so insurmountable that no one even bothered to think it might happen. I can feel my face flushing red, the muscles in my hands aching as I clench my fists together. For the first time in my life I feel completely and totally powerless. If I were a girl I would volunteer in a heartbeat; be up on the stage before Peach had even finished calling Edie's name. I scan my eyes across the girls of District Four – surely one of them will volunteer for her?

Any minute now.

The more seconds that pass the more hopeless I feel, and as Edie makes her way onto the stage I snap, reaching across to Peach's microphone and yanking it out of her hands.

"Volunteer!" I scream at the girls, "Damn it, someone volunteer!"

Before I can say anything else a peacekeeper gives Peach back her microphone and roughly restrains my arms. I expect Peach to blow up, to yell at me for showing her up in front of the whole of Panem, but she simply smiles. Behind all the grotesque makeup plastered across her blue face she actually looks excited, and I know why. All of this drama in Four will surely get her noticed back in the Capitol, and she's eating it up – no doubt waiting for more. I refuse to give her more. From this moment I decide the best strategy for me is silence. The Career tributes will be jumping at the idea of a brother-sister pairing in the Games, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to use us against each other. Peach asks if there are any volunteers; any sympathetic young girls that want to take my sister's place. Of course there aren't, so Peach takes myself and Edie by the shoulders and nudges us together.

"Okay then. Shake hands." Peach says. I don't need to be told twice. Edie reaches her arms out to hug me, but I simply take her left hand in my right and shake. _Later. _I mouth to her. I need to protect her as much as I possibly can, and showing affection in public will only make the arena more dangerous for her.

We retreat into the justice building and as soon as the doors close behind us Edie grabs onto my hand.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "I'm so sorry."

She shakes her head.

"I don't want anyone using you to get to me, or vice versa, so in public we have to keep affection to a minimum. Alright?"

She would reply, but we're shoved into separate elevators and escorted by peacekeepers to the rooms in which we'll say goodbye to our loved ones. I'm slightly surprised that Edie's room is separate to mine; being from the same family I assumed we'd have the same visitors, but as Cai and Lena enter the room in which I'm sat I begin to understand a little more.

"Why are you here together?" I ask them.

"Time." Lena says, "The reaping took a little longer than it was supposed to, and they're saying your train isn't going to arrive in the Capitol on time or something."

Who cares about saying goodbye to my friends and family, as long as we're on time for the Capitol.

"You alright?" Cai asks.

I think about it for a moment; I've just been through the torment of my sister being reaped for The Hunger Games and then being reaped for it myself. I've been pulled away from the people I know and now I only have three minutes each to say goodbye to them. I'm going to have to go in an arena in a few weeks' time and fight to the death with twenty-two other kids that I've never even met. And Cai has the audacity to ask if I'm all right?

"Yeah, I'm fine." I tell him. There's no point in crying to him about it because he probably doesn't care, and to be honest, I don't really care enough to tell him.

After a long silence, I bring out the coin that he tried to bet with from my pocket, and flip it to him just like he did to me earlier. He catches it with ease, and sniffs in a weird way that makes me think he might start crying at any moment. "I guess I won't be needing it anymore." I say.

"It's funny. You're the one person I never would have bet on." He admits with a smirk.

"I'm so sorry, Aedan." Lena says as we hug.

"Don't be. Just promise me you'll keep my mother company when you can." My father works long hours every day, so I hope that Lena and her family can offer my mother some much needed comfort while Edie and I are gone, especially because one, or both, of us won't be coming back.

"Of course I will." She says, trying to smile. I smile as much as I can manage, and even though we both know it couldn't be more fake, we all relax a little.

"What do you think it'll be like?" Lena asks.

"I don't know." I reply honestly. I think of all the Games I've seen being televised. It's compulsory to watch the Games; however my mother tried to keep me away from it as much as possible until I was eight. That's nine Games I've watched, and after a quick sum in my head I realise that I've watched 207 people die, and only nine survive. The worst I remember is a few years ago in the forty-third Games, a fourteen-year-old tribute named Eva was practically ripped apart by a career named Aphrodite. The mechanical claw that collected Eva's body had to drop down at least seven times before all her body parts were gone from the arena, and after three years I still can't get the image out of my mind. I just hope I won't have to face anyone like Aphrodite this year.

I look at Lena for a moment, her worried eyes scanning me sympathetically, and I can't help but sigh. "Look, we both know I'm not coming home after this." I say to both of them, "I'm going to do everything in my power to keep my sister alive."

I might as well just say it out loud. I am going to die in the Hunger Games. But if my death will mean that my sister can survive and come home, then I will welcome death with open arms.


	3. The Memorable Five

**INDIA**

"India Parmeley and Jack Ellwood… District Ten." I say to the man guarding the elevator. He nods knowingly and slides a silver bracelet onto my wrist, engraved with a large '10', then does the same to Jack. We stand in the elevator and before we know it we're zooming up toward the tenth floor. The elevator is about five times faster than the one back in Ten, but even so the journey is long enough to create an awkward silence between Jack and I. The train was big enough that we barely had to talk, except at the dinner table, but ever since we arrived at the Capitol we've been attached at the hip, and the cracks are definitely starting to show.  
"Here we are – tenth floor!" Exclaims Jonas, our escort, as we step out the elevator and in to our living quarters. The walls are covered in a mixture of purple and gold patterns that flow stylishly through the living room and into the dining area, the floor occupied by pristine white furniture. It's all very pretty – I'm sure to a Capitol resident it would be the height of luxury, worth paying thousands for, but to me it's unwelcoming and cold. "Best floor, in my opinion – perfect view of the skyline. You don't get that down on the second floor, do you?" continues Jonas in a feeble attempt to comfort us. He tells us that dinner will be in ten minutes and afterwards we'll all watch the reapings on the television. It sounds like hell, but before I or Jack can protest we're whisked away and shown to our rooms by an avox. I'm dropped off first, and as soon as the door closes behind me I feel like I'm in a different world. The cold colours that dominate the living areas have been disposed of, and instead I'm surrounded by warm reds and oranges, and a glowing fireplace near my tall, brown bed. It is the first time I've felt relatively at ease since I got on the train and left my home yesterday. I walk forward, stopping at one of the many clothes drawers and pulling open a random shelf. It is dedicated solely to shirts, and I smirk as I realise I could put all my clothes from back home in this drawer and still have a little room left. My fingers trace the soft material, picking a shirt at random and holding it against my body. The Capitol is not as warm as District 10, and as soon as I take off my flimsy homemade shirt and swap it for the Capitol one, I feel a lot better.  
I'm just about to try and figure out the entertainment system near my bed when I hear a loud knock on my door. I wait for a moment for someone to say something, but as the silence looms deeper I figure it must be an avox. I step outside my room and to my surprise Jack is resting against a pillar, smirking at me.

"Take your time." He says.

"I thought you were an avox."

"Jonas told me to get you for dinner."

I nod, not feeling very affectionate toward Jack, and lead us both to the dining area. Every inch of the white table is covered with some sort of Capitol dish, half of which I can't even name. All I can think is how long it would take to prepare back home, and how many it would feed. At first I feel guilty for having an effectively endless supply of food while people back home are starving, but as I pile my plate high with bread, beef, potatoes, pork and a load of other Capitol creations I can't help but devour it, and seeing Jack do the same eases my conscience a little more.  
When we finish I have almost forgotten what it feels like to be hungry, and I'm so full I fear the bloated feeling will never go away. Even so, when an avox girl brings out a hand-decorated chocolate cake, I let her cut me a big slice and gleefully tuck in. In my sixteen years I've never tasted chocolate cake, and the flavours explode in my mouth in ways I've never imagined. If I weren't so full I would have a second slice, maybe even a third, but even a poor, starving girl from Ten knows when it's time to stop eating. Jack is the last to finish, having opted for a second slice of cake, and as we lay our cutlery down on our plates it's clear that Jonas and the stylists were watching us the whole time. The only one who wasn't watching was Leila, our twenty year old mentor, and I expect this is what she was like on her first night in the Capitol. For some reason I feel the need to apologize, but I remember I don't owe them anything, and keep my mouth shut.

It's nearly ten by the time the conversation has died out, and Jonas reminds us that a replay of the reapings will start soon and end at midnight. We don't have to watch if we don't want, but even through our emotions tell us not to, we still each take a seat on the large white sofa. It begins as it does every year; a pink-haired Caesar Flickerman lights up the screen and raves about how exciting the reapings have been._ Exciting. _Even though his words are scripted, the enthusiasm in his voice makes my skin crawl. Ten minutes is dedicated to each District – footage of the reaping is played, edited to optimise the drama; and Caesar voiceovers during the quieter parts. I doubt I'll be able to remember all twenty-two unfamiliar names, so I take a notepad and make five boxes for the tributes I find most memorable.

"What are you doing?" Jack asks curiously, leaning over me. When I explain he pauses for a moment before asking a young avox for his own notepad. Leila swallows a mouthful of brandy to tell us that my idea is a good one – she says that trying to remember everyone will only worsen the pain of their deaths, but remembering a few will highlight the competition. I count nine in total that are aged fourteen and under, but none of them make it onto my list of the most memorable. Aedan Sparks, the devoted and tragically unfortunate brother makes the top of both our lists. Next is Belinda Deacon from One, the brutal Career who volunteered by smacking another girl's head on the stage. Then Lux Everley from Three, a beautiful girl whose emotions seem to have left her long ago. We differ in our last two – I choose Colt Mauritius from Two, another Career, and Claire Raelda from Eight – a strong and athletic fifteen year old. Jack chooses Lily Wysor from Six and Parker Tiernan from Twelve; both eighteen and both underdogs, according to Jack.  
The rest are by no means dull, but remembering them – especially the younger ones – will only trouble me in the arena. Leila inspects our lists and nods approvingly, and as the show draws to a close she tells us that we should go to bed. The tributes from the farthest Districts arrived not long ago, and tomorrow we will have our interviews, after a long day of what Jonas described as 'etiquette training'. We walk to our rooms together, staying quiet until we stand in the silent corridor. I'm sure people will be watching us, but Jonas and the stylists can't hear us and that's all that matters.

"Heck of a day." He says, leaning against his bedroom door.

"It's going to be a long one." I reply, "Do you have a strategy?"

"Not really. I was just hoping my natural good looks and charm would bring them all to their knees."

I smirk, because I've never met anyone who would joke so carelessly about the Games, especially when he'll probably die in them. To be fair, he is the kind of attractive seventeen year old that would win the hearts of the Capitol ladies, but his tone tells me he's not really being serious.

"What's your strategy, then?" He breaks the awkward silence.

I think about it for a moment. What is my strategy? I'm not intimidating or careless enough to be the fearless warrior, not sexy enough to be the heartthrob, what else is there?

"I guess… I guess I'll kill them with kindness."


	4. The Interview

"Walk slower, India." Jonas says for the fifth time in the last couple of minutes. I'm already walking at snail's pace, but somehow I move even slower still across the large room. No-one walks this slow back in Ten, not ever. We always have somewhere to go – a reason to be on our feet – but in the Capitol time is a loosely defined concept, and the residents do whatever they like at their own pace. We only have ten minutes left until the stylists will whisk me away to make me beautiful for the interviews, and I'm still tripping and stumbling in my four-inch heels; another thing you never see in Ten.

"Right, walk back to me."

I turn slowly, trying and failing at keeping my balance, and walk in Jonas's direction. He glares at me; an instruction to go slower, but for the first time in the last hour I walk ten yards without tripping. I want to be good, to be impressive and memorable, but every time I feel a pang of excitement a wave of terror and hatred replaces it. Jonas grins, having finally made some progress, and for a few minutes he holds my hand as I walk up and down a small block of stairs, trying not to break my neck before the Games even begin. Ideally we would have a few more minutes to perfect the stairs situation, something I think we should have started with, but when the stylists burst through the door saying I should have been in makeup five minutes ago, I figure the small amount of coaching Jonas gave me will have to do. I follow the stylists out of the room and down the long, white hallway, and hop into an elevator that will take us to the styling rooms. The short ride up to the sixth floor is even more awkward than sharing an elevator with Jack, and I can't help but feel anxious as the stylists prod my cheeks and run their fingers through my hair. They chatter casually, complimenting my eyes and hair and talking about the newest range of Capitol skin dyes, and before long we're stepping out the elevator and walking to the pristine styling rooms.

More than half of the other tributes have already arrived, all being primped and primed ready for tonight. I spot Jack, trying his best to keep a straight face as he's injected with a liquid that will stop him growing body hair in the arena. They've left his legs unshaven, probably to make him look more masculine, but he won't grow any stubble during the Games. As I walk past countless shelves of bottles, medicines and makeup I wonder what they'll do to me. The list of things they _could _do is endless; make my eyelashes pink, shave my head, tattoo my legs, they could even give me surgery if they really wanted to. It's happened before.

I sit in a large black chair, and immediately I'm surrounded by a pool of people, each with their own speciality; hair, eyebrows, makeup, legs etc. I'm not sure how long the whole transformation will take, but when they serve me a large platter of food and ask me what TV channel I want to watch, I figure it'll take a while. They immediately go to work, plucking my eyebrows and waxing my legs and painting my nails a shiny, Capitol blue. I still haven't seen the dress I'm going to be wearing later, but judging from my nails I guess it's going to be blue. My hair is tinted a lighter shade of blonde, which only takes about ten minutes, and then curled – half fixed up in a bun and the other half left to drape around my shoulder, and then covered in a shimmery gold spray. My lips are coloured a shiny pink, whereas my eyelids are powdered blue, much like the colour on my nails. When I look in the mirror I think they must be done. Everyone around me is in agreement that I look beautiful, yet they still add a few extra touches here and there, like a layer of black eyeliner, and a gold hairpin. I've honestly never seen myself looking so pretty. I'm worried that the change is so drastic that no-one will be able to recognize me in the arena, but I guess I'll just have to trust that the stylists know what they're doing.

"Time to get dressed," One of the women says, taking me by the freshly-manicured hand and leading me to a small, private room. "Put this on." She says, handing me a soft white robe. I take off my clothes as quickly as possible, hoping no-one will walk in on me, and slide the robe around my body. It's warm and comfortable, two things I doubt my interview dress will be. I barely get to sit down before Cherry, my stylist, walks into the room. I stand instinctively, and let her look me up and down for the best part of two minutes. Finally she smiles, and I sigh with relief.

"You look beautiful," She says, bringing in a white box and placing it on the coffee table. "Go ahead, open it."

I smile back, and do as she says. My mouth falls open as soon as I see the dress. Cherry gently reaches into the box and picks it up, allowing me to see it in all its glory. I was right about the colour; a shimmering blue that matches my nails, alongside a beautiful gold. The single strap is made of gold metal – along with the intricate pattern near my waist – and the rest is a soft, surprisingly warm, blue material that has a slight shimmer to it. Cherry is friendly and reassuring as she helps me into my dress, telling me that the interview will go wonderfully and the Capitol people will love me. I hope they do. Say what you like about the interviews, but the most impressive tributes are almost always the ones that last the longest, and so if putting on a shiny dress and acting sweet for the cameras will help me survive longer, then I really will kill them with kindness.

I slip into my gold heels and make my way backstage, where I can hear Caesar Flickerman introducing the first tribute to the stage. Belinda Deacon's dress is blood-red, just like her lipstick, and along with her jet black hair she looks stunning, but more importantly she looks dangerous. She answers almost every question rudely and harshly, bragging about how she volunteered for the Games by smashing another girl's head against the stage back in One, and how no-one else had dared volunteer. Three minutes pass quickly and Belinda is replaced by Daray – who is surprisingly friendly – who is replaced by Adriana, then Colt, and then in almost no time at all Lux Everley from Three is making her way to the stage. She answered Caesar's questions masterfully, her attitude a perfect mix of friendly and reserved that I could only admire. Either she's a natural, or I needed to speak with whoever had coached her. Either way, I had the right idea when I noted her as one of the most memorable. Aedan Sparks steps into the spotlight, squeezing his sister's hand as they cross paths, and sits in the gold padded chair opposite Caesar. Caesar is friendly and sympathetic, asking him how it felt when his sister was reaped alongside him and listening intently to his reply. He asks about their parents, Aedan's time in the Capitol, avoiding the topic of Edie Sparks' probable, if not imminent, death. Aedan is charming, attractive and evokes sympathy, and I know he'll be a tough act to follow. Just as he makes his way off stage I feel a hand on the small of my back. I turn abruptly, expecting it to be Jack, but when I see Belinda's terrifyingly evil face two inches away from mine; I jump out of my skin. She laughs.

"Nervous, huh?" She grins, "Don't worry, I'll make it quick for you in the arena."

I grit my teeth, feeling like I should do something to put her in her place. I consider kicking or punching her, leaving some sort of bruise to make sure everyone knows I'm not an easy target. But then she'll definitely come for me in the arena, and I can bet it won't be quick. So I stand there, staring at her and waiting for her to go away. She eventually does, and I'm rushed into the queue of tributes that haven't yet been interviewed. Most of them pass in a blur; normally the youngest tributes stand out the most, but in Districts Five through Nine there's only one tribute aged over fifteen, so it's hard to feel bad for anyone in particular.

Twelve-year-old Danyl Kinsey makes his way offstage, and I realise it's my turn. My stomach turns and I pray that I won't fall over. The world goes quiet, and when Jack shoves me forward I realise that my name has already been called. I walk onstage, trying my best not to squint in the blinding spotlight, and smile at the audience. Caesar takes my hand and we sit down, waiting momentarily for the audience to finish their applause.

"Welcome, India. I have to say, you look absolutely stunning." Caesar says with his usual grace, nodding toward the crowd.

"Thank you, Caesar!" I hold out the skirt of my dress so the audience can see. They _ooh _and _aah _until I start to worry my three minutes might nearly be over. I'm the nineteenth tribute to be interviewed; if I waste any time I might as well just let Belinda kill me now. Thankfully, Caesar senses my impatience and starts talking again.

"So, India. Do you have a plan for the arena? Got any strategies worked out?" He says, grinning so much I bet his cheeks have been hurting for hours.

"Well," I say, throwing a smile to the audience, "obviously I can't reveal my strategies whilst the competition is around, but let me tell you, I'm not one to be messed with."

Jonas gives me a thumbs-up from the audience, letting me know I did well, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Aha! Not just a pretty face then! Now, obviously everyone has strengths that help them in the arena. Are you a runner, a climber, a fighter, perhaps? What's your angle?"

"All of the above!" I joke, and the audience loves it. "But in all honesty, I'm good at hiding, and I'm particularly talented with a sword." Lies. All of it is a lie, but they don't know that. I've never won a game of hide-and-seek in my life, and my father wouldn't trust me to use a bread knife let alone a sword, but the more talented the sponsors think I am the better.

"My, you're definitely one to watch then." Caesar says sincerely, "One more question, India. Obviously family is a big focus in this year's games… what was it like to leave your own family, back in District Ten?" I take a moment to think of a good answer. Caesar's already taken the focus off me and thrust it upon Edie and Aedan, so what I say next needs to be good.

"It nearly killed me, Caesar." The audience is silent. "But now I know what it's like to be on the brink of death, and there's no way I'm going back. Leaving isn't easy… but getting back home is harder, so the next time they see me I'll be in a chariot, not a coffin." I'm being cocky and I know it. The whole of Panem knows it, but the audience cheers deafeningly as the buzzer sounds, so I think I've done something right. Caesar smiles and kisses my hand before leading me off the stage, where I take a deep breath. _You did it, _I think, _and you weren't even half bad. _

Jack walks up the stairs towards me, waiting for his cue from Caesar, and I smile at him.

"Good job." He says. I smile, about to say something in return, but then the audience starts cheering and he's being pushed onstage, so I decide it can wait until later. Cherry embraces me, leading me down the stairs toward the elevators whilst telling me how _good _I was, complementing the dress that she designed at every opportunity.

'_It really made your eyes POP!'_

'_Did you see how it shimmered in the spotlight? Did you? It was magical!'_

'_I would have sponsored you just for the DRESS! Your Q and A was just a bonus!'_

She offers to ride with me up to floor ten, but I decide that I want to watch Jack's interview on one of the many flat screens in the hallway. I've already missed the first minute or so, but it seems that Jack has really got the audience going. He sits in an overly-relaxed pose, his smile wide and constant (and ever so cocky) whilst Caesar laps up his every word.

"Some people say working in Ten is easy. They're liars, you know. Ten has some of the strongest people in Panem because of all the labour, and I don't mean to brag but, well…" He tenses his biceps, and although you can't actually see them underneath the suit he's wearing just the gesture is enough to make the crowd – and Caesar – die of laughter. "I think I'll do fine. I'm prepared, you know? Just because we're from Ten doesn't mean we don't know how to handle ourselves. We really know how to survive." I assume he's talking about District Ten as a whole, not just the two of us, but either way it makes me sound better.

"And finally, Jack, do you plan on having any allies in the arena? What do you think?" Caesar says with a smile.  
"To be honest Caesar, some people think having allies will save you. They're idiots. How many times do you see them making it to the top five? You don't. That's because Victors go it alone. Don't trust anyone, especially not me." He sounds cocky. No, pretentious and stupid. It takes me all of three seconds to decide that I don't want anything to do with him anymore. He's playing the game harder and better than anyone else at this point, and I fell for it. I can't even work out whether this is really him, speaking the truth or just lying to seem dangerous. I don't care if he turns out to be nice, I don't want to find out. I charge over to the elevator and the guard lets me in without a word. As he presses the button that will take us to floor ten I see Jack, jogging down the stairs looking smug. He catches my eye and I glare at him, giving him a look that says, as simply as possible, _'Fuck off'_. The elevator moves upwards too quickly for me to catch his reaction, but then I remind myself I simply don't care. As soon as the doors open I walk out, moving straight past Jonas and Cherry and going into my bedroom. I pull one of the pillows from the bed, revealing the notepad I used a few nights ago. I skip to the back, looking at the five names I chose, and writing _'Jack Ellwood'_ at the top, as large as I can. I snap the notebook shut in a rage, laying down on my bed and wondering what I'm going to do. I'm not going to trust anyone – that ship has sailed. I hear Jack coming out of the elevator, and all of the stylists making a fuss of him, telling him that he killed it.

I stand in my room, pulling off my dress and leaving it draped carelessly across a chair, and collapse into bed. It takes me a while to fall asleep, but just as I do a thought occurs to me.

_Get him first._


	5. Bloodlust

**BELINDA**

Training.

The word has been lingering in my mind for days, and as I stand at the head of the training floor I grin. I am in my element. The intense lights line the ceiling, allowing for perfect visibility in every area of the room. The floors are coated with soft, black material that's perfect for hand-to-hand combat, yet at the same time the dark colours throughout the room create a dangerous and final atmosphere. The room looks nothing like any arena, yet as the rest of the tributes file in behind me I feel an excited bloodlust that stands my hair on end. The last seventeen years of my life have been building up to these next few weeks – I have lived for the Hunger Games and I don't intend to stop now.

As I look around the circle of tributes, I realise how many kids there are. Everyone expects a few, but this year the number of young ones is overwhelming. Everyone from the Districts hates it, and I'm no exception. The first few will be fun to kill, but after a while the pleading and crying will surely get old. Older tributes are better for chasing and fighting, and everyone knows that's the best part.

I count twenty-four including myself, and the double doors behind me close and lock securely. Even before we get into the arena we're monitored and guided around like toddlers, and even though I'm used to intense training being treated the same as the uncouth tributes from poverty-ridden Districts makes my blood boil. A dark-skinned woman stands on a podium in front of us and clears her throat.

"Welcome, tributes. Over the next three days you will receive intense training that will prepare you for the challenges of the arena. Every day there will be three hours of mandatory strength and fitness training, but after this you can spread out to whichever stations you please." The woman gestures around the room, and everyone turns their heads to look. One large area of the floor has been dedicated to a series of obstacles and weights, which will be where we do our mandatory training, and the rest of the room is occupied by several smaller stations where we can learn anything from skinning animals, to climbing trees and fighting with swords.

"So," The woman says, directing our attention back to her, "after your three days of training you will be individually assessed, and given a ranking from one to twelve; one being the lowest, twelve being the highest. However, a twelve has never been awarded before." She looks at us expectantly, and I grin. "But remember, before you all go running to the weapons," Hah. Like half of these kids could even _hold _a weapon. "almost half of the deaths that will occur in the arena will be due to things such as infection, starvation and dehydration. So I suggest you all pay close attention to every lesson on offer." She flashes us a quick smile before stepping off the podium and leaving the room. For a moment everyone looks around, confused, and I roll my eyes.

Swords. That's what I'm good at. I know how to hold them, how to manage them, and most importantly, how to get the quickest kill with them. The official rules of the Hunger Games are that no tribute is allowed to receive training before arriving in the Capitol, but everyone knows that tributes from One and Two are fed and trained for the Games, and since we're on such good terms with the Capitol, no one has the guts to do anything about it. But every idiot who comes to the Games knows not to show your strengths whilst training. What's the point in having a strength if you can't keep it a secret? The element of surprise is one of the most dangerous weapons in the arena, and so is knowing the strengths and weaknesses of your enemies. As everyone rushes to the different stations dotted around the room I stand, arms folded, watching them intently. The brother-sister pair from Four stay together – one of the most idiotic moves in the history of the Hunger Games – and make their way to the fire building lesson. They will have no problem making traps or catching food, and I decide that if I don't need to watch out for Edie, I at least need to watch out for Aedan. Normally Districts One and Two would join up with Four to form what the other tributes call the 'Career' pack, but I highly doubt Aedan would consider joining us. Anyway, his little sister will be especially fun to kill.

The rest of the tributes shuffle around alone, wandering from one station to another. Some really pay attention, like the tributes from Three and Ten, but a lot of the others become confused and frustrated with the lessons that are probably beyond their capabilities. After about a quarter of an hour I decide I've had enough of people watching, and make my way to the climbing station, where Daray Caverly – my District partner – stands, eyeing up the fake tree in front of him. I stand behind him, waiting for him to make some sort of move.

"If you're this slow in the arena, you're going to get killed by that kid." I say, pointing to the twelve year old girl from Seven. She looks at me, confused, but runs away as I hiss at her. I laugh.

Daray nods at me and starts to ascend the tree, and I feel like grabbing him by the collar and pulling him down for his rudeness. In the end, I decide to simply show him up instead.

I leap for the tree, clasping the appropriate hand-holes and latch myself onto the wood. This one leap has gotten me almost as high as Daray has managed to climb, and I grin as I start to manoeuvre my way up the tree with animal-like stealth. Daray isn't bad at climbing, or anything else for that matter, it's just that I'm a lot better. We trained together back in One, and he knows how good I am, so he knows not to underestimate me. I flash a smile at him as he finally catches up to me, reaching the top branch of the surprisingly realistic faux tree.

"Show off," I hear him mutter from under his breath, and in less than a second I've got a firm grip on his collar. I push him against the branch and hold my body over his, staring him straight in the eyes.

"Don't ever say that again." I say quietly and threateningly, "We're going to be allies in the arena, but if you double cross me once, I'll have your fucking head on a stick, Caverly. Got it?"

He stares me down for a few moments before shoving me harshly away. I grab onto a branch behind me and stop myself from falling, thankful that if I did fall the height isn't enough to hurt me. I grin at Daray, licking my lips, and he scowls before quickly descending the tree. It takes one glance around the room to realise that everyone has been watching our exchange, although I doubt many people could actually hear it. What do they think was going on? Tributes from One and Two are always expected to be allies, and I don't intend to break tradition. I will enjoy killing Daray, but only when the time is right.

Just as I set both feet on the ground again, the dark-skinned woman, whose name turns out to be Lena, returns to the room.

"Tributes, it's time for lunch. Please everyone congregate in the lunch room – you'll have half an hour, after which you should meet back here for your mandatory strength and fitness training." I sigh. Making us eat lunch together is almost as humiliating as making us train together. What are we supposed to do? Make friends with the tributes from Eleven and Twelve? Learn how to mine coal over a bowl of stew? I'd rather die.

I stride nonchalantly into the lunch room and take the first white tray from the pile. Everything laid out on the long table looks delicious, but my mentor Jewel has given me a specific meal plan. I stock up on chicken, fish, bread and fruit, and pour myself a large glass of water. I look at all the empty tables in a long line across the room and smile at the fact I don't have to wander around like a lost sheep, looking for somewhere to sit in amongst the socially starved tributes. Now, if I end up sitting alone it will be because I am intimidating, not because I didn't have anywhere else to go.

It turns out that I don't end up sitting alone; I am joined by Daray Caverly, and both tributes from Two; Adriana Tate and Colt Mauritius. Adriana is tall and blonde and has been instructed to play the sex-goddess turned fighter, but from where I sit she just seems a little bit ditsy. Colt on the other hand is sixteen, a year younger than me, but I can't help but think of myself when I look at him. I think we'll make a good team, however long teams last in the arena. We make idle and boring small talk about weapons and stations and weather in the arena whilst Daray constantly stirs his soup, almost falling asleep in the process, and I watch all the other tributes to see if anyone at least tries to become friends. Most everyone sits alone, with the obvious exception of Aedan and Edie Sparks _(shocker)_, however when eighteen year old Lily Wysor from Six sits with a group of young kids I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. They don't talk much, but even being seen with them is enough for everyone to think she's weak. Her funeral.

I finish my lunch first, having been taught to always eat quickly, and throw my tray on the disposal unit near the exit. The doors open and close for me as I make my way back into the training room, and instantly something doesn't feel right. The room looks empty, but I know I'm not alone. I walk around the maze of obstacles to find whoever's lurking in the room, and suddenly I feel a brush of air on my head, and a loud thud next to my ear makes me jump. I turn around, my eyes focusing on the razor-sharp blade that hit the wall only centimetres from my head. I spin on my heels, fuming with rage, and spot Lux Everley and Calix Ackworth from Three, standing together at the head of the knife-throwing station.

"WHO THREW THIS?!" I scream, pulling the blade from the wall and holding it between my fingers, poised to throw it at either one of them. Neither of them answer. My blood is boiling and I can feel my heart pounding. I clench my fists, unafraid of throwing a punch in this deserted and secluded area of the training room. My feet carry me closer to them at what feels like a hundred miles per hour, and before I know it my fist is in the air and crashing down on Lux Everley's cheekbone. It's a good, satisfying punch, except I forgot that I had the blade locked between my fingers, and the gushing stream of blood that pours from Lux's cheek and pools on the black floor is anything but unnoticeable. It turns out that this area of the training floor, or any area for that matter, is not so secluded, as the security cameras start flashing red and within seconds medics rush on to the scene to take Lux and her bleeding face to the hospital wing. I laugh, unable to care if it was actually her who threw the blade or not, until I feel horrifyingly strong hands lock around my wrists, beginning to drag me toward the exit.

I scream and kick the air incessantly, writhing and fighting against the hands that constrain me. For a moment we stop and I think that I've won, until I feel the deep pinch of a needle being inserted into my upper arm, and I know that I've been sedated. My eyes begin to feel heavy, and I glare at the small crowd of tributes and mentors that has gathered to watch me being dragged away. I know I must look crazy, and the thought makes me laugh. If crazy is what they want, crazy is what they'll get.

I give one last defiant kick with all the strength I have left, and laugh menacingly as my body finally succumbs to the sedative.


End file.
